Shooting on a Prayer
by Selene47
Summary: When Brennan and Booth investigate a string of child murders, they must come to the rescue of an unexpected victim...BonesxBooth of course. Season 1.
1. Chapter 1

**_Bones _(c) Kathy Reichs and the makers of the show, etc.**

* * *

Chapter 1:

Dr. Temperance Brennan sighed and stood up from the table, easing the crick out of her back. The forensic anthropologist had been working on identifying the remains of a skeleton found in a bush two days before, but after hours of poring over the rotting corpse all she had discovered was that it was a male, between the ages of six and ten, roughly 148cm in height.

It was almost impossible to identify the body, or give an exact height, because it was missing the head, hands and feet, eliminating the simple identification methods.

Brennan pulled of her gloves, brushing auburn hair away from her face impatiently, and checked her watch, surprised to see it was nearly nine p.m.

"Angela?" Tempe called out, "Zack?" She was not expecting an answer, and receiving none, she grabbed her bag and left the museum.

Brennan had just pulled up outside her apartment when her cell phone trilled in her bag. She answered it, retrieving her keys at the same time.

"Brennan," she said as she crossed the empty street, shivering slightly in her thin brown jacket.

"Bones, you'd better get here quick."

"Booth?" She stopped outside her door, keys in hand, not noticing it slowly start to rain. "What is it?"

"We've found another one." She could almost hear her FBI partner run a nervous hand through his hair.

"I'll be right there. What's the address?"

It took her nearly quarter of an hour to find the building, by which time the rain had gotten heavier, soaking her the minute she left the shelter of the car. She saw her partner's hunched back inside his coat and hurried over to him, shrugging her shoulders inside her jacket, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella.

The building surrounding her were dilapidated wrecks; none of them looked to have been occupied in a long time. FBI agents milled around, moving automatically to let her through, used to her presence by now. They had come to accept that wherever Booth was working on a case, she would surely follow. The area was surrounded by police tape that she had to duck under to reach Booth. The red and blue lights on the cars flashed, illuminating the surrounding abandoned buildings.

"Booth," she called over the sound of the rain drumming on the ground, and her partner glanced round at the sound of her voice, worry creasing his forehead. Booth was only a few inches taller than her, but stocky and solid, a comforting bulk in his FBI issue jacket. His short dark hair, usually neatly combed, was slick and tousled from the rain. He flashed her a worried smile, only a shadow of his usual enthusiastic grin, and as she joined him she could see why.

The boy lay behind a large bush, already starting to decompose. Blood pooled beneath the body, but like the first dead boy they had found, he was missing his head, hands and feet.

The rain was already washing away the blood surrounding him, leaving nothing but a dark red stain in the dirt.

"Oh my God." Tempe heard herself say, momentarily forgetting to focus on the details and seeing the dead boy, before she mentally shook herself. She had a job to do.

"Better call in the team," Booth muttered, but it was more to fill the heavy silence than to give her advice, she knew, because she was already dialing.

"Zack?" she said, grateful that the rain was beginning to lessen and she could talk at a normal volume. "I've got something you should see..."

Seeley Booth shivered, watching his partner examine the body. He could tell it had started to decompose, but that was it; anthropology was her field, not his. The head was missing, but even so, the size of the body meant it couldn't be older than seven or eight, and Booth felt sick to his stomach as he thought of his own son, and how he would feel if the body was his…but that was impossible; Parker would be safely tucked up in bed by now, and Booth would see him at the weekend as planned, he would make sure of it.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Bones snapping commands at the agents and forensic experts trying to help. By now Zack and Hodgins, the field 'squint squad', as he called them, were milling around, asking questions and trying not to get in Bones' way. Zack talked non-stop about the possible causes of death, but he could tell Bones was hardly listening. Her young assistant probably also knew; despite the fact he was utterly clueless about most things involving living humans, he could always tell when she was ignoring him.

He was good at waiting; he had to be for both this and his previous line of work, but his feet had gone numb and after a few hours he was wishing more than anything for warmth and sleep. He checked his watch. It was after midnight, and finally there seemed to be signs of the investigation coming to an end.

"OK, Zack; get the body back to the lab for further investigations." Booth glanced up at the sound of Bones' voice.

"What's going on?" he asked her. "You done your thing, Bones?"

"Yes," she replied, the exhaustion clear in her voice, "and Booth?"

"Yeah?" He fell into step beside her.

"Don't call me Bones."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok...ask and you shall receive. Don't hold it against me if I don't put any science in or anything coz…I'm a writer, not a scientist. Also I'm from England so if I make any references to places, I don't actually know what they look like. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this...I have a few ideas, but don't know if any of them will work out. So bear with me. Thanks for the reviews! And thanks to WOATCAPIITON for checking this chapter for spelling etc., and also for coming up with the new and improved title!**

  
CHAPTER 2:

Tempe entered the office next morning, impatient to get to work. As she shrugged on her blue lab coat and headed to the examination table, she was surprised to see she already had company.

'What are you doing here, Booth?' She asked the FBI agent wearily, who, instead of answering, fixed her with an accusatory stare.

'You're late.' He said, casually leaning back against the table with his hands in his pockets. Brennan checked her watch.

'..I'm a half hour early.' She corrected him.

'And I always assumed you got here an hour early.' He straightened up as she snapped on a pair of gloves and shooed him out of the way of the boy they had found the night before.

'Are you here for a reason?' She asked from behind her hair, intent on the body of the boy, but as far as she could tell it was very similar to the first, left completely intact – apart from the missing parts – and only just starting to rot.

'Yes, actually, I am.' He drew a few pieces of paper folded together from the pocket of his jacket, and Brennan stood up, more interested as he passed it to her.

The paper, once unfolded, showed a young boy, smiling innocently. The slogan at the head of the page read: MISSING, CONNOR FINN, AGE 8, an address and a contact number. Brennan wondered if the kid in the picture ever imagined the happy photo would be used to advertise his disappearance. Or his murder.

She moved the page and tucked it behind the rest of the pile, and the next quickly followed it, and the next. Four in total, all sporting smiling boys between the ages of eight and ten.

'All these boys went missing in the past month. Two of them have been found, and they're lying on that table.' Booth nodded at the table next to them, where the two bodies lay. 'But we don't know which they are. Can you do some...DNA thingy to check it out?'

Brennan nodded, only half her mind on the question. _I can't get Angela to match the skulls…there are no skulls._ She thought, worry and frustration fighting for control over her calm, scientist's exterior.

'We can check out their families, see if the parents have anything to match a DNA sample...'

'Great, let's go.'

'But…' Something in her voice made him stop and turn around. The familiar crease had appeared between her eyebrows, that meant something didn't quite fit into place.

'What is it Bones?'

'Don't call me Bones. And there's something not quite right about this thing.'

'What?'

Brennan folded the flyers over and handed them back to Booth, who took them and stared at her quizzically, waiting for the light to click on behind her eyes. But instead she addressed him.

'It doesn't make sense. Why go to all the trouble of eliminating dental records, and fingerprints, but then dump the body in a bush?'

'Maybe it's a stupid murderer. You do get those.' Booth suggested, but Bones gave him an icy stare before withdrawing into her mind again. He could almost see the cogs clicking into place inside her brain.

'I suppose...maybe he _wanted_ the bodies to be found. He could have been trying to scare somebody.'

'So he kidnaps three kids and lops their limbs off?'

'Actually, arms and legs would be limbs, we're talking about just hands and feet, Booth.'

'And heads. Don't forget the heads.'

'How could I?'

BBBBBBBBBB

'Ok this is it, Mr. and Mrs. J Finn.' Booth stated, reading the address of the flyer on the top of the pile. 'Let's go talk to them.'

'Ok.' Bones moved to open the door, but Booth grabbed her arm. She turned to face him.

'Let's _me_ go talk to them. You just...look sympathetic.' Somehow her nod of obedience didn't reassure him like it should have.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3:

'Mr. Finn, when was the last time you saw your son Connor?'

Booth stared at the man opposite him with a professional eye, alert for any signs of suspicious behaviour or words, but the subject of his interrogation seemed genuine, a worried frown on his pale face, a comforting arm round his wife.

It took him a while to answer, but Booth assumed he was just intimidated by the sudden appearance of an FBI officer on his doorstep, asking questions about his missing son. Not to mention the strange look Bones was giving them. She probably thought it looked sympathetic, and he had failed to catch her eye to warn her that it was making them even more uncomfortable.

'Maybe...a week ago.' He finally stammered, glancing at his wife for conformation. 'Yeah, he had gone out to the park with some friends, and...' He came to a halt as his voice cracked, and Booth glanced at Bones, relieved that she met his gaze and he could try and signal with his eyebrows about her expression.

'What?' She said loudly, and he grimaced, shaking his head and turning back to the couple, who were eyeing them, confused.

'Just a few more questions, I'm afraid. Do you have...anything that we could use to match with some...uh...DNA?'

'What?' Connor's mother spoke for the first time. 'What is this about? You shouldn't need DNA if you're only checking up on us.'

Booth shared a worried glance with Bones.

'We...found some bodies, on the other side of town.' Booth said, wincing inwardly. He hadn't wanted to worry them, but they needed to know. 'Don't panic yet.' He added hastily as Mrs. Finn swayed and clutched at her grey-faced husband. 'We haven't identified the bodies yet, there's a chance it isn't your son.'

_Great, give them false hope._ He scolded himself. 'Uh...but you need to be prepared in case it's bad news.'

They left the house ten minutes later, carrying a toothbrush in a plastic evidence bag. To Booth's relief, and faint surprise, Bones had refrained from saying anything unnerving, but he made a mental note to remind her what 'sympathetic' meant.

'So who's next?' Bones asked him as the SUV rumbled into motion, and they clipped on their seatbelts. He flipped open the folded flyers.

'A Mr. M Jordan.' He read, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the words and not the picture of the cute, brown eyed boy grinning up at him from the photo. Despite himself, a knot of fear was beginning to grow inside him, as he thought about his own son, just a couple of years younger than the missing Chris Jordan.

'Booth?' Her voice snapped him out of his reverie. 'We better get moving, we don't have much time.'

'Yeah, you're right. Let's go.' He said, realising as he said it how right she was; the longer they spent on this investigation, the sooner the four boys, and probably more, would die.

BBBBBBBBBB

It was almost dark by the time they'd finished talking to each family, and Brennan was tired and aching all over. Booth kept giving her warning glances during the questionings, but she had no idea why; she was just looking sympathetic, like he told her to.

Somehow, she managed to persuade him to drop her off at the lab instead of her place, which was strange in itself – he was usually persuading her to work less. And another strange thing was the little line on his forehead that told her he was worried, strange because she didn't usually pick things like that up, and because he usually tried so hard to seem unaffected by the horrors they faced. She remembered seeing his son once, briefly, and wondered if it had something to do with him; he couldn't be much younger than the victims.

They pulled up beside the Jeffersonian, and she hesitated with her hand on the door handle. _Should I say something? _She decided against it; he didn't look like he was in the mood for talking, and he usually just laughed when she tried to say something psychological.

'See you tomorrow, Booth.' She said at last, ad he gave her a short nod in reply. Brennan swung the door of the SUV shut behind her, almost hesitated, then headed up towards the door.

She turned at the top of the steps, and saw him rub a hand over his face wearily before driving away. Brennan glanced down at the flyers in her hand, hitched her bag onto her shoulder, and entered the lab.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the reviews! Just 2 more and I'll hit double figures…(hint hint). Anyway, thanks to my mate Chaz for letting me use his name (I'm bad at names. And titles. And plots, really, this makes no sense. Hopefully it'll turn out OK.) So here goes.**

CHAPTER 4:

Booth smacked the file down onto the table in front of her, causing the bone fragments Brennan had been examining to skip a few millimetres across the glass surface.

'Take a look at _this_!'

'Booth!' Brennan slapped him away, carefully re-adjusting the shards underneath her microscope. 'Can't it wait a few minutes?'

'No, it can't. Look at this.'

Brennan peeled off her latex gloves and switched off the microscope, pulling the file towards her across the surface. Flipping it open, she read a few lines and glanced up at Booth's expectant gaze.

'What is this?'

He didn't give her a direct answer, instead grabbed the file off her and flicked through the pages, stopping at a page near the end and handing over the folder with a flourish.

'Dr. Charles Clapham…' Brennan read, looking at the photograph attached to the right hand corner of the page. A young man stared solidly out at her, aged 27 from his birthday stamped next to the picture, unkempt brown hair tangling into dark, serious eyes. Something in the man's gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and she was relieved when Booth's voice broke the silence.

'He was the chief of surgery over at the hospital in DC, but there was an...incident a few years back.'

'What kind of incident?'

'A patient died in surgery; there was a huge court case. Nurses claiming Clapham was 'under the influence', family threatening to sue, the whole shabbang.'

'Was he?'

Booth shrugged. 'He won his case, but lost his job. And, apparently, his mind. He started hallucinating, yelling at neighbours...and bodies started appearing.'

Brennan gaped at him. 'Did he kill them?'

Booth shrugged, barely concealed anger blazing in his dark eyes. 'Most of the evidence the evidence pointed to him, but there was no solid proof, so he got away with it. He would kidnap kids, cut off body parts, hide them badly...'

'Like our murderer.' She completed. Booth nodded, grinning triumphantly. 'So let's go talk to him.'

'Great minds, Bones.'

'I don't know what that means…'

'...never mind.'

BBBBBBBBBB

'Charles Clapham?' Booth called, giving a sharp rap on the door of apartment 147. 'FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions...' There were some noises from inside the apartment, and Bones grabbed his arm.

'He's escaping!'

'We're on the 3rd floor, Bones…'

After a few seconds the door opened, and they saw the suspect, in the flesh, for the first time.

He looked very like he did in the photograph, apart from a few years older, and his hair was cut short, shorter than Booth's. Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, with a few days stubble on his chin, he regarded them suspiciously, almost warily.

'Can I help you?' The words weren't unfriendly, but not friendly either. His eyes flicked back and forth between them, like a bird of prey deciding its next victim, and Brennan felt that icy sensation creep along her back and make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She shivered, almost opened her mouth to answer, and realised with a start that Booth was already speaking. She missed the words exchanged, but Clapham stood back to let them enter his home, and she followed closely after Booth, casting her gaze around the small apartment.

It was sparse, the main room containing a fridge, a few cupboards and counters, a couple of armchairs arranged around a small TV. A bookcase stood in the corner opposite the door. A glance in the bedroom produced an unmade, single bed and a chest of drawers.

'What is this about?' Clapham demanded suspiciously, before Booth could, no doubt, crack some wise comment or other. Brennan opened the drawers in the chest one by one; they were almost empty except for a few changes of clothes.

'If you don't mind, we'd like to take you back to ask some questions.' Her partner replied, in a voice that meant he was going to, whether Clapham objected or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the reviews! Double figures! Now we have to aim for 20. No…I doubt that many people will read it.**

**And I must confess, once again, about my inability to choose names: Special Agent Rod Walton is actually one of my best friends. (I shout 'RODDY!' at him. He does not laugh.)**

**I plan for the plot to thicken some more in this chap, and then take shape more next. Sorry if it gets a bit long, please don't stop reading! It'll get good! I promise!**

**Disclaimer (I keep forgetting it): Don't own Bones. Wish I did. There.**

CHAPTER 5:

Brennan leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, studying the three men with her in the room. Seeley Booth sat opposite Charles Clapham, hands folded on the table in front of him, while the suspect himself slouched in the metal chair he was handcuffed to. His attorney, Wallis, say beside him, hands clasped in his lap, back straight.

Clapham's posture was careless, but Brennan's sharp eyes missed nothing; he was blinking irregularly, dark eyes twitching, settling on everything in the room but herself and Booth. His finger tapped out a deliberately random pattern on the metal tabletop.

'So, you are saying that you have absolutely no proof that my client is guilty of the charges?' Despite his stern bearing, Clapham's attorney was easily the most relaxed out of the four of them.

Booth's reply was cut short as Brennan's cell phone rang shrilly, slicing the tense air like a knife. Apologising with her eyes to her partner, Tempe left the room, going into the adjoining one, where she could still see what was happening.

'Brennan.'

'Dr. Brennan, it's Zack.' Barely contained excitement was clear in her assistant's voice, and noises in the background indicated he was on speaker phone. 'The irregular cuts on the bone, where the parts were removed, it looks like they were made by a saw or some form of serrated blade.' Brennan nodded to herself; she had thought as much.

Angela's voice cut in, confirming her speaker phone suspicions.

'And the first DNA sample came back a few minutes ago. The first body we found has been identified.'

'Who is it?' Brennan asked, knowing the answer would send a family's hopes crashing down. She could tell, from the shake in her best friend's voice, that Ange knew it too.

'His name was Connor Finn.'

BBBBBBBBBB

Booth watched his Bones leave the room, and turned back to the suspect, frowning slightly. He guessed it would be one of the Squint Squad calling, probably Zack. But why? What had they found?

He shook off his thought, and continued the interrogation, on his own until the last few questions. Then a young man, whom Booth recognised as Special Agent Roderick Walton, joined them ('Call me Rod,' he beamed, shaking Booth's hand vigorously). But he brought him a coffee, which Booth gulped down gratefully.

'I've been told to take Clapham to a holding cell for the night.' He explained after the questioning and the coffee were finished, in which Booth had learned almost nothing, except that Clapham had been working in a video rental shop for the past 18 months to make ends meet.

'The night?' Booth looked for his watch. 'What time is it?'

Rod beat him to it. '10.45.' He replied, grinning at him. He looked very young, Booth thought. His pale brown hair stuck up at the front, giving his round face a boyish quality that the older agent assumed must be endearing.

'10.45…' Booth echoed, getting to his feet and rubbing a hand over his aching eyes. It had only been a few days since the first body had been found, and yet it felt so much longer. His body was screaming for rest; his sleep the night before had been troubled, to say the least, and he had been at the Jeffersonian bright and early to meet Bones. Suddenly he found himself leaning on the table for support.

'You look tired, sir.' Rod piped up. 'You should go home and rest. I can take it from here.'

_He must be new_. Booth thought. Or said, because the young agent answered.

'I got promoted to field agent last month, sir.'

Booth nodded wearily. 'So you don't need me to stay?'

'No, I can handle this.' His face had lit up eagerly. Booth hadn't the heart to disappoint him. He nodded again, and made his way to the door, his limbs growing heavier with each step.

_I need sleep._ Booth thought. _I'll ring Bones tomorrow._

Something flickered in Clapham's dark eyes as he passed, but he thought nothing of it.

_I really need sleep…_

BBBBBBBBBB

'Brennan! Bren!'

Tempe turned away from Zack, who was holding up a serrated knife to show the effect on a piece of bone, as Dr. Jack Hodgins careered into their midst, something clutched in a gloved fist.

'Hodgins, what is it?'

The 'bugs and slime' man paused for breath, before replying in a rush. 'Your guy Clapham was careful, really _really_ careful. There was no trace of this on his clothes, in his apartment…'

'What is it, Jack?' Brennan interrupted, firmly.

'Sorry.' Her curly-haired friend grinned, bright blue eyes wide with excitement. 'Forensics found traces of iron and carbon–'

'They make up steel.' Zack interrupted, unnecessarily.

'Where was it found?' Brennan endeavoured.

'On the soles of his shoes. Seems he got careless.' He held up the evidence bag in his hand, which held a few grains of material.

Brennan took the bag carefully, with a look close to wonder in her eyes, the look she got when examining a fresh skeleton. And began firing off instructions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Hope you like this chapter…the gold thing's called the Angelator right? I thought I read that somewhere…**

**And sorry it took so long to update, my internet broke.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. Wish I did.**

CHAPTER 6:

Booth had to physically drag himself awake, swinging his legs out of bed before his eyes were even open. It took most of his strength to push himself to his feet, where he clutched the wall for support, forcing his eyelids apart.

The clock on his bedside cabinet read 12:15, and the sunlight streaming through the partly closed curtains showed it was day, not night, but it had to be wrong; nobody could be this tired after nine hours of sleep. It was almost as if he'd been...

Booth groaned out loud at his stupidity. He had been drugged. The coffee Rod had brought him...Rod was involved? Rod was a bad guy?

He was too tired to think straight. What he needed was a shower and a cup of _real _coffee.

The answer phone blinked at him as he stumbled into the hallway, and he automatically punched the 'play' button.

'You have four messages.' Squeaked the robotic voice at the other end. He hit the button again, leaning heavily on the wall, blinking to try and clear his head.

The first two messages were from Bones, one telling him something about knives and steel his exhausted mind couldn't comprehend, and the other wondering where he was. She sounded worried. The third was from Rebecca, his ex-girlfriend and mother of his son. He deleted that; he wasn't in the mood to talk to her. And the fourth was Bones again, asking if he was alright, demanding he call back.

He hit the 'delete all' button and staggered off to have a shower.

After he had showered, dressed and swallowed several cups of drug-free coffee, Booth felt almost human again. The after-effects of whatever he had been given were wearing off. As he crossed to the phone to finally ring Bones, reaching out to pick up the handset, it let out a trill. He smiled to himself.

_How many times does she call when I'm a few hours late?_ He picked up the phone.

'Hey.'

'Agent Booth.' It wasn't a question. Booth felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; despite the face the speaker was obviously disguising his voice electronically, he knew there was only one person it could be.

'Clapham.' He heard himself say, his mood dropping rapidly.

'Give the man a medal.' He had removed the voice modifier, and venom dripped from every easily recognised word.

'How did you escape? Rod...'

'The newbie was really quite useful. You'd be surprised how easy it was for Wallis to drug that coffee; Walton really was a fool, he never suspected a thing until it was too late. We couldn't have him squealing on us though...'

Thinking back, Booth vaguely remembered Clapham's attorney leaving the room for a bathroom break, a few minutes before the young agent had appeared with the drink.

'You killed him...' He felt his insides grow cold. The only reply he got was a mirthless laugh, but it was enough. 'You-' Booth gripped the phone so hard his knuckles went white. He headed for his jacket, hanging on a coat rack near the door. But before he could even reach his cell phone in the pocket, Clapham spoke again.

'Don't even think about calling for help. You're going to do exactly as I tell you and if you don't...'

'Why the hell would I do _anything_ you say?' He snarled into the phone, wide awake now, and shaking with anger.

The killer's next sentence was spoken in almost a whisper, but the words froze Booth to the core. He didn't realise he'd let go of the phone; didn't hear it hit the floor. All he heard was that sentence thumping round and round his head, a single word falling from his lips.

'_No_...'

BBBBBBBBBB

Angela pressed a button on her handset, and an image flickered into life within the swirling gold of the Angelator. The three others in the room – Hodgins, Brennan and Zack - turned their attention to the jumbled maze of lines and symbols before them.

The virtual image showed a map of the area, a ten mile radius around where the two bodies had been found, littered with small red, blue and green marks, as well as a purple splodge that was meant to represent the Jeffersonian.

Brennan leaned forward to study it more closely, Angela's voice narrating in the background.

'The blue crosses show the positions of any buildings where the components that make steel could have been used in the past few years. The green crosses show the least recently used over that time. The murderer probably used one of the abandoned factories or mills to…' She trailed off and swallowed; out of the whole team, she was the most sensitive, the most affected by the horrors they had to face.

'Which seem the most likely choices for someone who didn't want to be discovered?' Hodgins found himself asking, to fill the uncomfortable silence. Angela pressed another button on the remote in her hand.

'These red circles are the most likely choices.' She said, trying to sound as if she was talking about buying a house, instead of finding the scene of a brutal murder. The three red rings on the rotating map were all of an equal distance from the two places they had discovered the bodies, which were only a couple of blocks apart anyway.

'Can we get a printout of this?' Brennan asked, and Angela tapped a few buttons on the remote, sending the file as a 2D image to her laptop. A few minutes later Tempe pocketed the printed map.

She headed for her office, closely followed by Angela, reaching into her lab coat pocket for her cell; Booth would want to know what they'd found out. Wherever he was. He hadn't contacted her, and she had left a couple of messages - even his boss had rung her to see if she'd seen him.

But she pushed the niggling worry to the back of her head, knowing there was no need to be afraid for him. Booth could take care of himself.

She had punched a couple of buttons for his home phone, when her cell went off in her hand, almost making her jump. She half smiled, hitting the green button, expecting to hear her partner's familiar voice.

'Brennan.' Tempe said into her cell phone, but nobody replied. She was about to hang up when there was a muffled sound on the other end, then a word, so quiet she almost thought she imagined it.

'Bones...' She heard again, and instantly recognised the voice, though the desperate fear was new.

'Booth?' The hopelessness in his voice scared her; she found that the hand holding her cell phone was shaking.

'You OK Bren?' Asked Angela from beside her, noticing how pale the usually unshakeable anthropologist had gone.

'Booth, what is it?' Brennan asked, ignoring her best friend's concern. 'Are you alright?'

'It's Clapham.' Her partner said at last. 'Another kid's gone missing.'

'…who?' Brennan heard herself say as if from a distance, with a horrible feeling she already knew. Booth's next sentence, choked with what she could only guess were tears, confirmed her fears.

'It's Parker, Bones. It's my _son_.'

It hit her like a physical blow. Brennan felt her cell slip from her hand as she took a step backwards, vaguely hoping something would stop her from falling.

Angela saw her crumple, and grabbed her elbow, but Tempe barely noticed, quickly pulling away from her friend, shaking her head.

'Bren!' Angela called out, but Brennan was striding away towards the glass doors, leaving her best friend scared and baffled. 'Be _careful_!' She yelled at her retreating back, but Tempe was already pushing her way through the doors.

_I'll be careful._ She thought grimly. _I'll be careful - when Booth is safe_.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. All the characters and places etc. belong to the cast and crew, and Kathy Reichs.

CHAPTER 7:

Special Agent Rod Walton stumbled up to the unfamiliar glass doors, a shaking, blood stained hand clamped to his side. He cursed himself for not noticing Clapham and Wallis acting strangely on the way to the holding cell.

He had searched the suspect, again, just to check the guards hadn't missed anything on the way in, but the attorney…well, he hadn't seen the point. Big mistake.

And he had just stared dumbly at the knife, not even trying to defend himself, only half registering it. But that didn't make the pain any less real, as his flesh was sliced like paper and blood soaked into his shirt, a hand over his mouth so he couldn't even scream…

It had taken him hours to regain consciousness; he had no idea why they had left him alive, why nobody had seen it on the security cameras, and didn't care. Booth hadn't answered his phone, and nobody else he ran had heard from him. His forensic anthropologist was the only hope he had, but Rod didn't know her cell phone number, so he had dragged himself twelve blocks to the museum where she worked, almost passing out again from the pain.

As he put a hand on the door handle, breathing slowly as black spots danced before his eyes, the door slammed open into him. His weak knees gave way and he fell heavily, losing grip on his side, fingers too slippery with blood. Pain jolted through his system and blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue. The person who had nearly run him over looked vaguely familiar through eyes blurred with tears of pain, and as he blinked rapidly, she came into sharper focus.

'Dr. Brennan?' He croaked as she hurried past, and the woman turned, looking down at him as if she was surprised to see him on the floor. Then her eyes flicked to the hand clutching his ribs.

'What happened?' She asked quickly, dropping to her knees beside him, digging in the pocket of her blue lab coat. 'What's your name?'

She took the hand out of her pocket empty, and she almost stood up, seemingly torn between staying with him or finding a phone, as well as glancing worriedly towards her car.

'Special Agent Rod Walton.' He finally managed to gasp. 'I'm looking for Booth.'

She froze, her red-brown hair covering her face, masking her expression. 'You know what happened to Booth?'

'I have to find him.' Rod struggled to sit up, pain throbbing from the knife wound. 'Clapham and Wallis attacked me on the way to the cell-'

'Wallis?' Brennan interrupted. 'The attorney?' She sounded as surprised as he had felt.

'He's on his side.' Rod explained. 'I have to find Booth.'

Tempe hesitated. She didn't know this man who claimed to be acquainted with Booth; he had arrived after she left the interview. But he seemed to be telling the truth about the attack, from the blood pooling around him, and she really didn't have time to waste. Anything could be happening to Parker – and Booth.

'I have an idea where he is…' She pulled the map from her lab coat pocket. 'Clapham should be taking Parker to one of these buildings…'

'Who?' Rod interrupted.

'…Booth's son.' Tempe swallowed. 'He…I'm going to find him.'

'I'm coming with you.' Said Rod. And Brennan just nodded.

BBBBBBBBBB

Booth screeched to a halt outside Clapham's building, leaving dark skid marks on the road and pavement, but he didn't notice. He was out of the SUV before it had stopped, pelting through the doors and up the stairs three at a time.

He didn't bother to knock, simply threw himself at the door of 147. It crashed open under his weight, and Booth stumbled into the dark apartment, drawing his gun at the same time.

He crept through the main room, not because he didn't want to be discovered – anyone could have heard him coming through the door – but because he wanted to be able to hear if Clapham tried to escape. His cell phone buzzing in his jacket pocket pretty much ruined the effect.

He dug in his pocket and flipped open his phone, seeing the screen flash up Bones' name, feeling a surge of relief it wasn't Clapham again. He almost cancelled the call; he didn't want anyone persuading him to be 'careful', not when Parker's life was at stake. But there was always a chance she knew something important, and he could really use a familiar voice.

'What?' He said, snapping unintentionally.

'Booth?' It wasn't Bones, and it took a moment to recognise the voice at the other end.

'Angela? Where's Bones?'

'…she isn't with you?' She sounded scared.

'Should she be?' Booth began to feel worried as well. 'What happened?'

'She took off right after you called, she looked really worried, even left her cell. What's going on?'

Booth slowly opened his mouth to explain, when a pain exploded in the back of his head and he let out an involuntary yell of pain, dropping his gun and the phone, crumpling to his knees and then onto his front. He vaguely registered a dark shape move across his vision, as something wet trickled down the back of his neck and into his collar, before whoever it was struck him again and he knew no more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. All the characters and places etc. belong to the cast and crew, and Kathy Reichs.**

**And sorry about the cliff hangers, I hate them too, I just always end up writing too much. Plus I get more reviews :P**

CHAPTER 8:

Booth slowly regained consciousness, for a moment wondering where he was. He was aware of a heavy silence, broken only by grunts of pain that he realised were coming from him. He shifted slightly, feeling something gritty through his jacket, like gravel or thick grains of sand. There was a strange taste in his mouth, metallic and tangy and warm.

Then the pain washed over him, and with it came the horrible memory of what had happened. His head began to throb with short jabs of pain, as he tried to sit up, putting a palm against his forehead. It was covered in something weet and sticky and suspiciously like blood.

_Dammit._ He scrabbled in his pockets, eyes shut to try to ward off the pain, looking for his phone. Then he remembered the phone call to Angela, dropping the cell as he passed out, and a thought struck him. Where was Clapham?

Reluctantly, Booth cracked his eyes open, only to find himself in pitch blackness. Blood trickled into his ear as he rolled over to push himself onto his knees, and he felt the liquid drip over his lips, but he ignored it, renewed determination flaring into life inside him. He had to save Parker. And, judging by Angela's worried tone, he had to save Bones.

Finally on his feet, swaying as his head spun, Booth dragged himself in what he hoped was a straight line, one hand stretched in front of him, the other searching for his gun. He wasn't surprised to find it gone - as well as the extra rounds of ammo, and the flip knife in his back pocket - but he still cursed Clapham with the small amount of breath he could catch.

After a few minutes he felt his hand hit the wall, causing his arm to jar, but the pain was nothing compared to the dull pounding in his head, and he wasted no time in feeling along it for an opening or light switch. He soon felt what seemed to be a metal handle, and he yanked it down, blinking as the light flickered into life far overhead.

Shielding his eyes with a hand, he squinted around at the room he was in. Weak electric lights, seemingly quite new, hung from beams on the high ceiling. Everything was grey with dust and smelt of oil and industry, and he realised he must be in a factory or mill of some kind. He traced one of the machines near him, sniffing the dust residue on his fingertips.

_Bones would know what this was._ He found himself thinking, and felt worry gnaw at his chest. Wherever they were, he would find Bones and Parker, and put a bullet in that psycho's head.

And then he heard it…

BBBBBBBBBB

Meanwhile…

Brennan floored the gas pedal, feeling the convertible rumble into life. Throwing a glance at Rod, who was slumped in the passenger seat, bleeding onto the leather and looking pale green, she slammed into gear and the car leapt into motion.

Studying the map in her hand as she screeched onto the road, she took a right and flew in the direction of the hospital, houses passing in a blur. She didn't know how Booth's FBI badge would help her if he wasn't in the car, so she just hoped very hard that she wouldn't get stopped.

She was heading for a steel mill, one of the buildings circled on the map, for no other reason than because it was the closest and she needed to save time if she was going to rescue Booth and Parker. Which she would, no question about it. Her mouth set in a determined line, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, as Rod groaned beside her.

'You…drive like a …crazy person.' He muttered through gritted teeth, and she glanced over at him. He was huddled in the corner, a hand still clasping his side where the bad guys had stabbed him.

'I've been told.' She replied, almost smiling as she remembered Booth's views on her driving. Then she remembered that she was going to rescue him, and her smile turned into a worried frown. She bit her lip, hoping he was alright.

'How far…is it?'

'Not far.' She turned another corner, which took them out of he city and into a burial ground of old warehouses and factories. 'It should be one of these…'

A few minutes later they came to a halt in front of a very tall building, coated in a thin grey dust. _A steel mill._ She thought. _This must be it._

Brennan jumped out of the car, running to Rod's side to help him out. She was having her doubts about him coming; his face got paler every step, but he fixed her with a glare as soon as she opened her mouth, as if he could tell what she was going to say.

She squeezed through the slightly open steel door and snapped on the light switch, Rod close to her elbow. The room had an incredibly high ceiling, and dust-coated machines she didn't recognise lined the walls. She took the sample of steel from her pocket just to make sure she was in the right place, matching it against the dust on one of the machines, and it looked the same, but she had no way to tell for definite.

They had taken a couple more steps, so they were in the centre of the room, and the eerie emptiness of the mill was closing in on her. Brennan shivered, wishing she had persuaded Booth to give her a gun, but soon steeled herself.

'Keep my back.' She ordered Rod, who gave her a confused look, but seemed to get what she meant and turned to keep a lookout behind them. Clapham had taken his gun, and he found he only had a couple of quarters and a stick of gum in his pockets, so he didn't know how useful he'd be. Plus he was still bleeding heavily from his side, despite having staunched the wound with his undershirt, but he was determined to do his job, and keep the scientist alive.

He was so busy watching behind them that he forgot to watch his feet, and he suddenly tripped on the loose concrete, his weight slamming into Brennan's back. She fell heavily, twisting and landing awkwardly on her arm. She heard something crack as the agent landed on top of her, and pain exploded through her elbow.

'Dammit!' He heard her shout, and hastily scrambled off her.

'I'm sorry! What happened? Are you OK?'

'No I'm not.' She got unsteadily to her feet, cradling her wrist in her other arm. 'You've gone and broken my bloody arm!'

Eyes narrowed with pain, both of them intent on glaring at the other, they didn't see or hear the third person enter behind them until Clapham clicked the safety off the gun. Then they both froze, turning slowly to face him to see the evil sneer twisting his once-handsome face. There was no doubting it: he was crazy. His eyes blazed with hate, his hair in a matted mess, his shirt stained with sweat and blood.

'On your knees.' He commanded, his voice saturated with poison.

They fell to their knees, unable to breathe; both of them recognised the gun in his shaking fist.

'What have you don't to Booth?' Brennan demanded, pleased that her voice barely shook. 'Where is he?'

'Don't worry your pretty little head about it.' He leered patronisingly down at her. Brennan had to force herself not to smash his face in, reminding herself he was aiming a gun at her. She remembered something she once said to Booth: _Let's rush him. He can't shoot us both._ She had no idea if it would work, but even if he shot her, Rod might have a chance. And she didn't have any other choice.

She threw herself forward onto her feet and into Clapham, hearing the gun go off but not registering it as she fell on top of him. The bullet must have ricocheted into a machine, because there was a clang, and a yell from Clapham, as he threw her off. Tempe landed on her bad arm and screamed, stars flashing before her eyes. She didn't see Rd tackle his, but heard the gun skitter across the floor to land a few yards away.

Her eyes met with the killer's bloodshot gaze, and they both scrabbled for the weapon, but she was too slow, in too much pain from her arm, and Rod was slumped beside her. She tried to kick the gun out of his reach, but his fingers were already closing around the grip. She froze, unable to move or breathe or cry out as he swung the pistol to aim at her.

She felt the shot ring out more than she heard it, and something punched into her side, knocking the air out of her lungs. The ground hit her back and she realised she was lying down, staring up at the criss-cross of pipes and glaring lights in the ceiling. As darkness closed in she heard something that sounded like her name, in a familiar voice, but she had to be imagining it, because it sounded just like Booth…


	9. Chapter 9

Booth's head snapped up as he heard a familiar voice, almost thinking it was his imagination playing tricks. But then he heard her shout with pain, and looked around hastily for a door, seeing one a few yards to his left and almost crashing through it, then hearing another voice that sent chills down his neck.

'On your knees.' Said Clapham as Booth cracked the door open as quietly as he could, relief and worry flooding through him in equal measures as he saw his Bones, and that young agent, Rod, kneeling with their backs to him, Clapham standing over them holding something familiar.

_So he didn't kill him._ He thought, confused. _Why not? Why kill kids but then leave a real threat alive and hurt?_ He was more than crazy, more than drunk on the power of life over death; he was doing all this for a reason. But what was it?

'What have you don't to Booth? Where is he?' Bones was shouting, and Booth almost ran in there and then, to show her he was alright, but he knew there was less chance of her survival if he intervened now. He nearly smiled when he saw that Bones was still wearing her blue lab coat, but fear and worry quickly overcame the warm rush of emotion.

His mind was whirling. He had no idea how he was supposed to save Bones and Parker, and now there was Rod as well, who didn't look up to much.

'Don't worry your pretty little head about it.' Clapham sneered, and from where he was standing Booth saw the contempt on his face as he leaned in towards her. Booth ground his teeth, suppressing the urge to clonk him over the head with something heavy. And then something happened that he would never forget.

One moment Bones was kneeling, staring defiantly up at her kidnapper, the next she had hurled herself forwards towards him. Her shoulder caught Clapham's stomach, sending him sprawling with her landing on top of him. A shot rang out, and Booth, who had been edging sideways into the room, hit the ground as the bullet clanged into the wall where his head had been. Bones didn't see him; she was busy scrabbling for the dropped gun, Clapham trying to hold her back.

Booth jumped to his feet as Clapham grabbed the gun, Bones straining to stand up. But she was barely on her feet before she was thrown backwards, the sound of the gunshot ringing through the vast room.

Booth threw himself forwards, knocking him over, at the same time grabbing his gun from the killer's hand. He sat astride Clapham's chest, knees pinning his arms to the floor, one hand clamped on Clapham's throat, the other holding the gun to the side of his head.

'Rod!' The single word revived the young agent from his half-consciousness; he realised he must have hit his head when he tackled Clapham. Looking up, he saw his fellow agent Booth grappling with the enemy, but he seemed to be in control, and as he shouted his name again Rod saw Dr. Brennan lying a few feet away, a pool of blood quickly widening around her.

'Oh my God!' Rod scrambled over to her, trying to stop the flow with his hands without hurting her.

'Use your shirt!' Booth was yelling, and Rod hastily ripped off his already bloody shirt and held it over the wound. 'Apply pressure!'

Rod pressed down hard on the balled-up shirt, and blood quickly soaked through the cloth to stain his hands, dripping onto the floor and drenching the knees of his pants, but he didn't let go. Brennan was making small noises of pain through her clenched teeth, eyes shut tight so no tears could escape. Rod felt horrible; he must be putting her through so much pain by applying pressure, but he knew it was the right thing to do, and Booth had stopped shouting. At him, anyway.

'Where is Parker?' He yelled in Clapham's face. The man leered up at him, surprisingly unafraid for someone with a gun to his temple, but Booth didn't care; he would be afraid soon enough. He jabbed the pistol at his head, and repeated the question. 'Where is he? What have you done to him?'

Clapham didn't answer, a grin twisting his grimy face, but his eyes flicked towards Booth's right, so fast he thought he'd imagined it. But he glanced sideways anyway, just in case, holding the barrel of the gun tight against Clapham's jaw.

There, in the shadow of two huge machines, was a small metal door, almost invisible in the darkness. Booth inadvertently squeezed the trigger of the gun, and was surprised to hear a click to indicate the clip was empty. His stomach dropped to his feet as his enemy's smile widened, showing his small sharp teeth.

He began to say something, but Booth knew enough. He flipped the gun over in his hand, smashed the butt hard against Clapham's head, and smiled in satisfaction as the killer slumped sideways, a bruise already forming on his temple. Booth hoped he hadn't killed him for the sake of the agency, but only for a second, before he was on his feet, running to kneel beside Bones.

'Bones?' He said, dreading what he would find as he felt under her jaw for her pulse. Almost fainting in relief as he felt a fluttering heart beat under his fingers, he quickly pulled off his jacket and carefully slid it under her head.

Rod watched all this, looking very pale and scared, pressing his sodden shirt on Bones' side, leaving no hands free to stop his own bleeding.

'I'll take it from here.' Booth shifted his hands to the cloth, nudging the wavering Rod out of the way. 'Check him, he should have my cell phone. Call the medics for you and Bones.'

As soon as the other agent was out of the way, Booth leaned over Bones again, fear knotting his stomach. 'Bones? Wake up.' She didn't reply, didn't even show she'd heard. He checked her pulse again, but the same weak beat was still there. '…Temperance?' He whispered. 'Tempe, I -'

'Booth?' He suddenly heard Rod say quietly, and looked up quickly to see the agent swaying slightly on his feet, holding Booths cell in a bloody hand. 'They're on their way.'

'Good.' Booth got slowly to his feet, head pounding. 'You watch Tempe. I'll get my son.'

He crossed to the small metal door, a hundred horrible images of what he would find inside flashing through his mind. But when he opened, the door, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw…


	10. Chapter 10

'Parker?' Booth dreamily took a step further into the room, his eyes fixed on the scene before him. His son was tied to a metal chair in the centre of the room, hands tied in front of him, legs bound tightly to the chair with tape, so tight he could see the red marks where the rough tape had rubbed skin off his calfs. His head was bent, and he seemed to be unconscious, but at the sound of the door opening he slowly raised his head to meet Booth's eyes with his own tear-filled brown orbs.

Momentarily frozen, the FBI agent just stared, hardly daring to breathe in case it shattered the image, before he was on his knees before the chair, tearing at the bindings blindly, Parker croaking his name.

'I'm here buddy, I'm here. It's OK.' Booth found himself choking on tears as he folded his boy into his arms, Parker clinging to him like he'd never let go. 'I'm so sorry.' Booth mumbled into the top of his head, as Parker's tears soaked into the shoulder of his shirt.

Parker didn't answer, just let his father's strong arms and words wrap around him like a comforting blanket, sinking into a relieved unconsciousness.

BBBBBBBBBB

Tempe awoke slowly and painfully, almost panicking as she felt something plastic over her mouth. But then her eyes came fully open, and she saw the white ceiling above her, and felt the wires leading from her good arm, and heard the soft blip of her own heartbeat.

Struggling to sit up, she felt a twinge of pain in her right side, and glanced down, automatically putting a hand over the wound. She could feel bandages around her stomach through the hospital gown, and her left arm was wrapped in a sling.

She slowly began to remember what had happened, at the same time as she realised that Booth was slumped in the chair next to her bed, his mouth hanging open, and with a bandage of his own tied around his head. She smiled, opening her mouth to speak, when his eyes fluttered open to rest on her face.

'Tempe?' He sat up quickly, taking her good left hand in his own. 'How are you feeling?'

'Sore. What's wrong with my side?'

'You were shot, Clapham shot you.'

'Where is he?' She couldn't keep the trace of fear out of her voice, but Booth grinned unexpectedly, dark brown eyes flashing.

'He's in court right now. We'll need to hear your statement, but at the very least he's going away for manslaughter.' He sounded extremely pleased with himself.

Then Tempe remembered the reason they had been looking for Clapham in the first place. 'Parker! Is he alright?'

'He's fine, he's at home. The damage was mainly emotional so he's had a shrink talk to him, but he's handling it well.'

'He's a good boy.' Tempe said after a second, and Booth nodded, his face shining with pride. 'And Rod?'

Booth's smile slid off his face. 'He…it's not looking good. They got him to surgery, but he's lost a lot of blood. He's in a critical condition, but he made it this long, so the hardest part's over, but…' He shook his head, and Tempe squeezed his hand impulsively.

'He'll be OK.' She promised, and Booth glanced up at her, trying to smile. He opened his mouth to reply, when the door suddenly burst open, and the Squint Squad tumbled into the room.

'Sweetie! The nurse called and said you were awake! How are you feeling?' Angela swept her up in a careful hug, and Brennan let go of Booth's hand to hug her awkwardly back with her good arm.

'I'm fine, Ange.' She smiled at Angela, Zack, and Hodgins, who were both looking worried - the opposite of Angela, who had a grin plastered across her face.

'I knew you'd be OK.' She said in a way that was somehow scolding and resolute at the same time, meaning she was angry with Brennan for running into danger – again. 'And Booth hasn't left for four days, since you got out of surgery.'

Brennan avoided looking at Booth, who coughed in an embarrassed way before speaking. 'Well I'd better be going, now you're awake.'

'Oh no, no, stay!' Angela said enthusiastically, waving a carrier bag at him. 'We have movies, and Sid fixed us some takeaways. Bren, you can't eat yet, so you can smell the boxes. Yay!'

'Yay.' Echoed Tempe and Booth, but the three visitors were already pulling chairs up to her bed.

'OK which movie first?' Angela tipped half a dozen DVDs onto the bed, and Brennan lay back, a smile forming on her face as her friends began squabbling over movies, letting their familiar voices wash over her as the selected movie finally started. Hodgins and Zack were arguing across her, as usual, and Angela was chattering non-stop.

Brennan thought back to the last thing she remembered before she was shot; entering the steel mill with Rod, and facing Clapham. A stark contrast to the friendly, warm situation she was in now. She began to worry about Rod, but pushed the thought out of her mind. He would be all right. Things always turned out better than you expected them to. She settled down to watch the movie, Booth's comforting warmth on one side, Angela's familiar voice on the other.

She drifted off to sleep halfway through the movie, with the smell of Chinese takeaway and the sound of her friends like a safe wall around her. Everything would be all right, and maybe there was another body waiting for her at the lab. It was a strange thing to comfort her, that maybe someone had died in a mysterious way for her to examine their remains, but the thought that she was at least doing something to identify other people's family and friends made her feel special and loved.

She wasn't aware that as she fell asleep her head fell onto Booth's shoulder, or that he put an arm round her to stop her from slipping, but a smile tugged at her lips as she dreamt. Booth stayed with her long after the others had left, dozing, with his head on the pillow beside her.


	11. Epilogue

Brennan sat with Angela in the front row, watching Booth give his speech. She didn't really hear the words; she was still drugged for the pain, but the meaning was clear, and tears welled in her eyes as he stepped back down from the plinth and sat in the empty seat beside her.

'That was beautiful.' Angela leaned over from her other side to say, and Booth nodded, his faint smile not reaching his cheerless eyes. Brennan tried to smile encouragingly, but somehow found her face muscles wouldn't obey her. She stared dumbly at the black coffin being lowered into the hole, draped in the Stars and Stripes.

The priest was finishing the sermon with a few words that none of them heard, their attention held by the plain black coffin. Booth and Brennan had only known Rod for a few hours - and Angela not at all - but they all knew of his courage in not only protecting them, but in preventing a murderer from killing again.

The rest of the service played out as they sat in silence on the front row. As it came to an end, and the last of his friends and family filtered out of the graveyard, Brennan found herself getting to her feet as if in a daze. She stopped in front of the grave for a few seconds, Booth silent at her elbow.

'Hey.' He said softly after a while, and she blinked away her tears to glance at him. His face was hard.

'Hi.'

'You need a ride home?' She nodded, giving her friend's grave a final glance before letting Booth lead her away. Angela shot her a small smile as they passed, but Tempe couldn't return it. She opened the door on the passenger side, but Booth shook his head, nodding at the other seat. Amazed, Brennan crossed to the other side and slid behind the wheel of the SUV.

'You're actually letting me drive?' She said uncertainly to Booth as she started the engine, and he flashed her his grin before taking his cell phone out of his pocket. It was buzzing.

'Booth.' He answered, looking pointedly at Brennan until she looked back at the road. He listened for a few minutes as Brennan carefully steered the vehicle onto the main road, then snapped his phone shut.

'Change of plan, Bones.' He rattled off an address on the other side of town, and she immediately switched lanes, swinging the car in an arc, which seemed to annoy everyone else on the road.

'FBI!' She hollered out the window. 'Don't make me shoot you!' She shot the smirking Booth a disapproving look. 'What did they find?'

Booth instantly switched back into FBI mode. 'It's hard to tell, exactly. The body is burnt beyond recognition, so they, uh, called us. You up for a challenge?'

Brennan flashed him a grin of her own as the SUV zoomed down the road. 'Always.'


End file.
